I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” he says. “I have no excuse. I was an asshole.” He lets out a short, self–deprecatingugh that tickles my skin. “It’s weird apologising when I can’t even see your face.”

    I’m not sure what it is I hear in his voice that makes my chest ache

    chest ache – like he’s not just apologising for tonight, but for every moment he’s ever hurt me without meaning to.

    —

    That thing pulls tight in my chest again. I don’t even think I just roll over, shifting so we’re lying face–to–face. His arm stays locked around me, pulling me right into him.

    I’m not ready for what I see.

    His blue eyes are raw with regret. His blond hair is messy and adorable, and he looks unfairly handsome in the morning light, like something straight out of a dream I’m afraid to wake up from.

    “Oh, I breathe, stunned for a second. “Are you even familiar with the concept of morning breath, Mr. Calloway?”

    -a real, bellyugh

    —

    Heughs

    and it lights up his entire face. I swear the whole world feels a little brighter. “Only like fifty percent. Do I have morning breath?” he teases.

    “Yeah, I lie, even though honestly, I can’t smell anything except him–and it’s doing dangerous things to my heart.

    His grin gets even wider, if that’s possible, all sunshine and mischief. “Good. We’re matching.”

    “Hey!” I swat at his arm, but he catches my hand easily, his fingers curling around mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

    He doesn’t let go.

    His smile slowly fades away. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, voice so raw it makes my throat tighten. “But.. I’m asking you to anyway.”

    He squeezes my hand gently, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

    Like somehow, I’m the one who matters most.

    I said things I shouldn’t have too,” I mutter. He lifts an eyebrow at me, like he’s not

    buying it.

    “Well, you weren’t wrong.”

    “But-”

    “For once, Emilia,” he says, voice low and rough, “just take the damn apology. No excuses.

    No brushing it off. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulls in a shaky breath, like the words are harder to say than they should be. “So yell at me. Throw something. Hate me if you want.”

    His voice drops even lower. “Just… don’t pretend it didn’t matter. Please.”

    I purse my lips, trying to stay mad, but it’s hard when he’s looking at me like that.

    Then I rememberst night and everything he said and the mes within me reignite.

    “Fine,” I grumble. “But I don’t ept your apology. I’m livid. I have no idea where you got

    the audacity to talk to me like that.”

    “How audacious of me.” He says beneath his breath, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

    My stomach flips.

    ‘I thought I was supposed to be telling you offb?/bb” /b

    “You are,” he says, smile seated on his lips in a way that makes me think he meant: “That’s

    my girl.”

    “There’s nothing funny about this,” I’huff. “You’re either going to talk to me with respect or I’m throwing you overboard. And I’m not like Ba – I won’t have the captain fish you back

    out.

    Heughs under his breath, but there’s no teasing in his eyes anymore. Just something softer, Warmer. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again,” he says again, quieter this time.

    “You were right. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

    I blink at him, thrown off. “Right about what?”

    He holds my gaze, like he’s afraid to say it but even more afraid not to. “I would’ve killed to be in his ce.”

    It takes me a second to get what he means and when I do, my heart stumbles. My brain

    short–circuits.

    W–what?

    Before I can say anything, his hand leaves my waist and brushes my cheek, so gently it makes my throat tighten.

    He smiles at me – a little sad, a little wrecked–like I’m the only thing that makes sense in a world that doesn’t.

    It makes no sense at all, he murmurs. “How I can like you this much.

    The space between us feels too small now. Like breathing him in is the easiest thing in the world.

    “And if it makes you feel any better, he adds, thumb skimming lightly over my cheek, ‘T’d dly go overboard… if you’re the one who pushes me.”

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